


The Good, The Bad, and The Owl House

by Rest_at_the_Bonfire



Category: The Owl House (Cartoon)
Genre: Gonna try to get real weird with this one, Nah just Weird, New Fandom for me, Should have finished something before starting something new, Weird West, Wild West?, Y'all listen to that Sangfielle pilot though?, first attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 00:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30114498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rest_at_the_Bonfire/pseuds/Rest_at_the_Bonfire
Summary: A Stranger is lost in a desert and has a conversation with her death. An owl takes notice and intervenes.
Relationships: Eda Clawthorne & Luz Noceda
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	The Good, The Bad, and The Owl House

**Author's Note:**

> So here we are, and here I am, writing something new and different as I stare at the two other stories I already only update roughly once a month. What's one more, when all is said and done? A new one, because I watched the Owl House and think it's incredibly good, and also I listened to that new season of Friends at the Table and it got me thinking some kinda way about weird frontier stuff and, well, here we are. 
> 
> Gosh, I hope you like it.

The Stranger strode across the desert as the sun beat down from above. A buzzard, circling on high, marked the Stranger’s passage and decided that there was far too much movement happening to be a potential meal and wheeled away to search for less energetic prey. The Stranger did not notice, her dark eyes fixed on the horizon. The dust of the plains rose to meet her at every step, dying her once-blue poncho a dark grey. Somewhere in the depths of time her boots had once been black and her jeans blue, but now both were stained the color of mud. A leather knapsack was slung over her shoulder, and a wide-brimmed hat covered her short brown hair. Given her appearance and her location, one might have expected her to be armed, but if she carried any weapon, it was well-concealed.

The Stranger walked with a purpose that belied the apparent hopelessness of her situation. After all, she was still miles from any settlements, so the maps would have one believe. She walked with confidence born of the knowledge that without some kind of miracle, she was not going to last much longer. Her canteen was empty, her throat burned with thirst, and there was no sign of any source of water nor civilization. Quite plainly, the Stranger was walking in defiance of her own death. The Stranger’s death walked with her, keeping her company until such time as she would take the Stranger’s place in the way of things.

“It will not be long now,” the Stranger’s death opined. “Your temperature will rise, your skin will crack and dry, and you will crumble to the ground like so much dust.” She laced her fingers behind her head and stared up into the sky. “The birds will come and pick your bones clean; the coyotes will perhaps have a chance as well.” She turned her head to observe the Stranger’s reaction. “You will be playing an important part in the ecosystem of this desert.”

“That sounds nice,” the Stranger replied, not entirely certain who she was talking to, or if she was talking to herself. “I hope it’s the coyotes; I don’t like the look of those buzzards.”

“I sincerely doubt that you will have much of a say in the matter,” the Stranger’s death responded with a shrug. “But perhaps I will see what I can do to make it so.”

The Stranger continued on in silence for some time. The sun marched across the sky, indifferent to her plight as it began to sink low in the west. As it met the horizon, the sky blazed with hues of orange and red, fading slowly to a dark purple and velvet as night took its place. Stars began to appear as the light faded, and behind the Stranger, the moon rose, a half-circle of silver light. Around her, the desert came alive as its nocturnal denizens emerged after hiding from the heat of the day. She could hear the scurry and rustle of their passage, and in the distance but not quite far enough away for comfort, the howl of a coyote.

“You look exhausted, friend,” the Stranger’s death said in a low voice. “Do you not wish to rest?” She pointed to a rocky outcropping. “Come, take shelter there for a while. The desert will be waiting for you in a few hours.”

The Stranger laughed, a harsh, rasping sound that did more to remind her of her thirst than express any genuine amusement. “Waiting to claim me, you mean.”

“I do not deny it,” the Stranger’s death replied with a small smile. “It is an inevitability. I certainly would not be here otherwise.” The Stranger shook her head.

“Still have more to go.” She continued onward, not looking at the outcropping. “Not going to make it easy for you.” The Stranger had nothing left, she knew. She was not sure why she did not give in, why she didn’t just lie down and let her death in. Stubbornness, perhaps, or simple resolution. She knew there was something out in this wasteland, some destination that she had yet to reach. It drove her forward, even knowing that she would eventually falter and topple over into the dust and that would be the end of her.

“You are aware, of course,” the Stranger’s death drawled, “that in drawing this out and clinging to hope, you are merely providing confirmation that you are an idiot.” She walked ahead a few paces and turned around, spreading her arms wide. “All this space and nowhere for you to hide from me.”

The Stranger clenched her teeth and still pushed herself forward, determined to, if nothing else, die on her feet. She could feel the flame of her life flickering within her, guttering weakly but still burning. She clung to that feeling and thought to herself, _just a few more steps, a few more miles, a few more hours of travel and I’ll find it_. She was not sure what, exactly, it was, but she focused on it with all her might.

“I have yet to decide whether I pity you or admire you,” the Stranger’s death whispered in her ear. “You have made this a truly interesting journey, if nothing else.” The Stranger attempted to respond to the taunt, but found herself unable to form words. She felt the cold grip of despair reach out for her and, with great effort, rebuked it. Her internal struggle had distracted her from her path, however, and she felt her foot catch on a rock. Time seemed to slow as she slowly, inevitably lost her balance and began the descent to the ground. The impact knocked the wind out of her, and she rolled painfully onto her back and stared up into the starry night sky.

“Ah, at last.” The Stranger’s death came and sat next to her. “Do not worry, it will not be nearly as bad as you think.” The Stranger turned her head to look at her death and smiled. Her vision began to fade, but with an effort, she focused on her death's face. She was _beautiful_. The Stranger’s death smiled and held out her hand. “Come along, then.”

"You're... beautiful," the Stranger rasped, and she could have sworn that she saw a look of surprise and a blush flit across her death's face. She reached her hand out towards her death, who had composed herself and continued to hold out her hand. 

It was at this point that the owl landed on the Stranger’s chest. It was a small, tawny creature, with giant golden eyes that stared into the Stranger’s eyes with a curiosity and a surprising intelligence. The Stranger stared back and tried to remember whether desert owls were a known quantity, and if so whether they were carrion birds. She was not, in fact, sure and wondered if she should have paid more attention in class. This was followed immediately by the next thought that it likely did not matter because she would be dead shortly. She turned her head back to take her death by the hand and found that she was now alone.

“Find something, Owlbert?” The Stranger attempted to focus. Her death was missing, but someone else had taken her place. She could see a pair of red boots, stockings, and a red dress cut at an angle some might describe as rakish. “What are we going to do with a corpse? Can’t sell a corpse, at least not to anyone we’d ever want to meet,” the boots continued to speak.

The Stranger managed a weak cough and watched as the boots took a startled step back. “Well, I’ll be. It’s not a corpse after all.” A face came into view as the owner of the boots and dress leaned over. She had wild gray hair, sharp features, and a golden fang that refused to stay inside her mouth, even when closed. “You okay, kid?” The woman’s golden eyes shone in the moonlight.

The Stranger gave a weak moan. “Hah! Dumb question. Of course you’re not okay.” The woman laughed. “Well, I guess I can’t just leave you here. Owlbert, we’re cutting this trip short.” The owl hooted and took flight, perching atop a wooden staff that the woman held in one hand. She fished in a pocket – _a dress with pockets, what a good idea_ the Stranger thought to herself – and withdrew a curious-looking key with an insignia of an eye at the head. She pressed her thumb on the insignia and flashed a grin at the Stranger. “Ready to get out of here? Eh, don’t answer that.” There was a flash of light and a door appeared in the middle of the desert with a matching insignia.

 _Ah._ The Stranger thought. _I died after all_. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she passed out.

“Oh, hells,” the woman said.

*

Her death was right, the Stranger thought as she lay on her back, eyes closed. It wasn’t nearly as bad as she thought it would be. The burning in her throat was gone, she felt warm and safe and surprisingly clean for someone who had spent days wandering the desert. She shifted to roll on her side and felt the tug of a blanket over her. She also heard a steady breathing near her head and felt something shift. Her eyes snapped open, and she found herself face-to-face with what appeared to be a black fox that was missing the hair on the top half of its head. And the skin. And the flesh. And the bodily fats. Yellow and red eyes stared into her brown eyes and for a moment, nothing happened.

Then the Stranger screamed. Then the fox screamed.

“AAAAAAH IT’S AWAKE, EDA, IT’S AWAKE” the fox yelled, scrambling backwards and sprinting out of the open door. The Stranger stopped screaming and began coughing, deciding that she was either dead and in some sort of purgatory, or she was alive, and in some kind of purgatory. Either way, she was glad to at least confirm that her voice appeared to have returned, and worried that she was still coughing. Perhaps yelling was not the best activity first thing after recovering from extreme dehydration.

Or dying. The Stranger hadn’t ruled out dying yet. Although if she was dead, the Stranger was disappointed that coughing was part of this new existence. She attempted to sit up in the bed that was clearly in and found that dying – or nearly dying – had involved a certain number of aches and pains that were making themselves known at every opportunity. She groaned aloud.

“So, you _are_ awake,” a voice said from the doorway. The Stranger looked up to see her rescuer leaning against the door frame. “I don’t suppose you know how to talk, too?”

“Am… I dead?” The Stranger could hear an uncharacteristic rasp in her voice but was relieved to find that talking at least didn’t hurt.

“Dead? You’re awfully lively for dead,” the woman smiled, and that golden fang glinted in the sunlight. “No, you’re not dead. Actually, you’re the furthest thing from it, which is to say you’re alive.”

“Then… you found me. In the desert.” The Stranger furrowed her brow, trying to recall the details of everything that happened before she lost consciousness. “How’d you find me?”

“I didn’t,” the woman replied. “Absolute coincidence. I don’t generally go looking for strangers in the desert.” She shrugged. “I don’t generally go there at all, but Owlbert was insistent that I go with him to bring you back here.”

“And Owlbert is… the owl?”

“Name does kind of give it away, doesn’t it?” The woman gave another smile. “Anyway, Owlbert brought me to you, and I brought you back here. Fixed you up, and here we are.”

“And who… where is here, exactly?” The Stranger looked around. “I still don’t… there was a door? In the desert, you made a door… appear.” She stared at her rescuer. “How did you make a door appear?”

“Oh, that’s easy. Magic!” The woman held out the key and pressed on the eye. A door with a matching insignia unfolded out of thin air. “Well, more of a magical artifact.” She pressed again and it folded up into a small briefcase.

“Magic.”

“Yep, magic.” The woman held out her hand, one finger extended, and drew a shimmering circle in the air. “Magic got you here, magic cleaned you up and helped you heal. Magic changed your clothes, too.” The Stranger looked down, realizing for the first time that she was wearing different clothing – a plain sleeveless shirt and some kind of soft pants with legs that didn’t extend beyond her knees.

“So, you’re magic, and you used magic to bring me here, which is…?”

“The Owl House! My home.” The woman threw her hands wide in a flourish. “Best place to live on all the Boiling Isles.” She narrowed her eyes and regarded the Stranger with an air of suspicion. “You’re taking this awfully well for someone who was almost dead a day ago.”

“Eh,” the Stranger shrugged. “I always figured I’d end up in a magical fantasy world.” She paused. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“Hey, no problem,” the woman waved a hand dismissively. “Couldn’t just leave you in the middle of nowhere. I’d never hear the end of it.”

“Still, thank you,” the Stranger said, “Ms..?”

“I’m Eda, The Owl Lady. Most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles, and expert on the human world.” She raised an eyebrow.

“I’m Luz. Luz Noceda.” The Stranger – Luz – replied. “And I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about or where I am, but I owe you for saving my life.” A thought struck her. “You said you’re an expert on the human world? Does that mean that this… isn’t my world?”

“Oh, gods no,” Eda snorted. “This place is much more interesting. And you’re absolutely right, you do owe me, but that can wait. For now, get some rest. I’ll be along later to check on you and get you something to eat.” She turned and made to close the door. “Oh, and one more thing: could you try not to scare King again? He gets really loud when he’s scared, and it gives me a headache.”

“Is King that… headless… fox… thing?”

“King isn’t a fox, he’s a demon. Don’t worry, he’s mostly harmless. A little skittish when he hasn't had a nap, but otherwise fine.” Eda waved goodbye. “Now go to sleep, almost dying takes a lot of energy and you’re going to need it.” She shut the door and Luz collapsed back onto the pillow, staring at the ceiling.

“Well.” Luz turned her head and found that her death sitting on the windowsill, looking at her with something that could very well be fondness. “I suppose it is not your time after all, Luz.” Luz’s death hopped off the windowsill and walked towards her. “I still think you are an idiot, but I will admit, a magnificent one.” She leaned down and kissed Luz on the forehead. The sensation was cold, but not unpleasant. “Until we meet again,” her death said with a bow, and disappeared.

Luz’s gaze returned to the ceiling. “Weird day,” she muttered as her eyelids drooped. She was soon fast asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning, it's gone past 1 AM when I posted this and I listened to no less than THREE Murder by Death albums while I was writing this. There might be revisions in the future. Heck, I might scrap the title of the chapter (because I had a real good idea and completely forgot what it was but what's up there is all right for now) or even the whole story (less likely, I think it's a good title, more or less).
> 
> But now, I need some sleep and I need to figure out what I'm going to do next with this, or with uh, the two other stories that I'm in the middle of writing here. But mostly the sleep thing.
> 
> I got some sleep and I still can't remember what I was going to call this thing, so the title stays for now. I've also changed some sentences, and got rid of some other ones, and added one or two to help with future plans.
> 
> I promise I'm not done here, but I do have a laundry list of things I need to figure out first so uh, maybe just subscribe and you'll know the moment I push some HOT NEW CONTENT your way on this thing.


End file.
